Dragons Die
by Ramzes
Summary: They meant to bring the dragons back. It did not turn out this way. The tragedy of Summerhall.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I disclaim.**

_Dragons Die_

In the long days of summer, Summerhall was a lovely place to be in. Its shades and marbles offered a much needed respite from the heat and rank air of King's Landing. Targaryens loved spending their time here with the bare minimum of entourage and servants. In the last years, especially, the King had been experiencing both joy and grief, something like painful delight that kept dragging him here, where the shadows of his childhood loomed – his horses, his training, the mornings when he had joyfully opened his eyes, eager to see what the new day brought him. In the night, loved ones made appearances – Daeron, constantly tormented by his gift, Aemon with his quiet strength, the tragic Queen Aelinor who had stepped up to take the role of the mother he barely remembered as best as she could, his childhood friends, some of them now scattered around the Seven Kingdoms, others dead for him in the battlefields, his restless father, who had spent his life in the shadow of guilt and regret, Dhaella with her unfailing, overwhelming kindness, so different from the rest of them. And Rhae. Rhae, with her Dornish eyes and Targaryen hair, with her cheeky smile and sharp wit. She had not been his favourite sister – as a child, he had loved Dhaella just as much. Rhae had just been the love of his life. The queen on the throne next to him. The queen of his heart. Here, he felt closer to her than he did even at the chambers they had shared at King's Landing. He could see her anywhere – in the great hall, at the towers, near the fountain, on the swings he had swung her in when they had been children. At the same time, it was here that he felt her absence most severely. It hurt that she was no longer here, that none of them was, but at the same time, it brought peace to his mind. Here, he could feel that they had existed. That he would join them one day, soon. The family and court followed, of course, his lead. Not that they minded. Summerhall _was_ an enchanted place.

A cursed place, now.

They should have awoken the dragons. They should have been rejoicing in their success. Instead, everyone was scrambling around in panic, trying to extinguish the fire, to save themselves. To save the magnificent castle.

Rhaella screamed again and staggered back from the window when the wing opposite to her room collapsed in a cloud of rubble that almost rivaled the cloud of smoke enveloping the gardens. Desperately, she tried to open the door of the adjoining chamber but slammed it back when she saw the firewall crawling toward her slowly, relentlessly.

Her wide eyes looked around wildly. Earlier, she had sent all her attendants away – the child had been restless and she had been reluctant to tolerate anyone's presence. Nothing had been to her taste – the rosewater was too sweet, the bed too feathery-soft, the girls too chatty… She had wanted to be alone, with her discomfort and the soothing thought of Bonnifer… And now she was truly alone. Amidst the flames. With a heavy pregnant body that impeded her movements.

She was going to die.

She ran to the main door of her bedroom, hoping against hope that fire had not come this way yet. Deep inside, she knew that it had been the first direction it had taken but still she hoped. She was fifteen year old and she wanted to live, live…

The flames started crawling up the door the moment she came near. Rhaella jumped back and felt a sharp pain slicing through her belly. _Not now,_ she thought desperately. _Please, baby, not now. Don't you see I'm trying to save both of us? Don't you see?_

The firewall was coming towards her. Behind her back, there was a loud bang and the windows broke in hundred of splinters, some of which tore at her face and palms. Rhaella barely felt any pain, she was too consumed by her terror.

"Rhaella!"

The roaring of the fire was so thunderous that she did not register her own name. She would die in flames. She would burn. She only hoped the smoke would suffocate her before fire reached her flesh.

"Rhaella, are you in there? Rhaella, open up. Open the bloody door!"

She ran for the adjacent door she had slammed only minutes ago. The heat was so high that the doorknob left blisters to her hands while she struggled with the lock. She whimpered in pain but did not stop.

"Aerys!" she cried in relief as soon as her brother threw the door open.

His eyes were wide with fear, his face as pale as his hair. On his head, there was a covering dripping water. Soon, it would be completely dried. He clasped her in his arms. "Rhaella! Thank gods you are alive. You didn't answer and I… Rhaella, I thought…"

She wanted to weep with fear and relief. At least she wasn't alone now.

Aerys took their surroundings in one desperate glance. "Summerhall is burning. We need to get out of here!"

"How?" she asked. "The fire is everywhere."

"The way I came. Is there any water here?"

She pointed at the ewer at her bedside table. Aerys grabbed it and poured it over the covering, then threw it over both their heads and hurriedly led her through the chamber. At the sight of the flames coming nearer, Rhaella recoiled but went bravely forward. The frantic movements in her belly threatened to knock her down, she was shaking and so was Aerys. They were both going to die here, she knew it. When they reached the staircase, the heat hit them right in the face.

"Aerys!" Rhaella screamed, having lost her brother's hand. "Where are you? I can't see anything!"

"I am here, don't be afraid" he choked out and gripped her hand again. The smoke was so dense that they could barely breathe. "Rhaella, we must go on."

"So we shall," she managed and together, they went.

In the hall, they saw a white figure. A Kingsguard. It was near impossible to make out his face. Rhaella tripped and fell over. Aerys barely managed to get her up, her belly was weighing her down too much. He wrapped an arm around her to help her walk faster. But they did not know where to go.

The Kingsguard was now near them. Ser Ilan. He was dragging along Steffon who seemed dazed. Blood was trickling down his left temple.

"Steffon!" Rhaella cried out and tried to rush to him, only to groan and clutch her stomach. "Where are the others?"

He shook his head. His eyes looked strangely lifeless, as if he was not fully aware of what was going on. "I don't know. I was in the Blue Hall when…" He gulped. "I don't remember."

"Ser Ilan!" Aerys shouted. "How are they?"

The knight's jaw tightened. "I don't know, Your Grace. We must go now."

Aerys and Rhaella both looked at him incredulously. "Go?" Aerys asked. "You want to _leave_?"

"I don't want to!" But then Ser Ilan realized that it was neither time nor place for explaining himself. He made a quick step aside to avoid a falling rafter. "I must get you out. The King's command. There is a secret passage somewhere here…"

"There is," Rhaella said. "It is too far away."

Yet, they had no choice but try to reach it.

* * *

Rhaelle was screaming, her face flushed a deep shade of red, her purple eyes almost black with horror as she was desperately clinging to Jaehaerys' hand. The sudden collapse of an inner wall had left her hanging over the edge of the third-floor hall and her brother was on his knees, trying to pull her back. The fire was roaring, drowning her screams and his. She could only see his lips moving. Behind him, a small silhouette fluttered and disappeared. Rhaelle could no longer fight the exhaustion and the pain in her fingers. She was slipping away, downwards.

"Rhaelle!" Jaehaerys cried. "Don't let go!"

Her fingers tightened around his with a last bout of desperate strength. He finally fought the swimming in his head enough to scramble on his feet.

For a moment, it looked as if they would succeed. He started pulling her out and Rhaelle screamed with the effort to help him. But then, an ornament from the ceiling fell, sending Jaehaerys flat on his back and Rhaelle, with a horrifying shriek, down to the marble surface of the forecourt.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I disclaim._

**Thanks to Oberon Sexton for the lovely review. You really inspire me to go on.**

_Dragons Die_

Chapter 2

Ser Ilan looked around and made a quick assessment of the situation. There was no doubt that Summerhall would burn down… taking many of the poor souls who were scrambling around in panic with it. Ceilings collapsed, marble statues shook back and forth as if they were going somewhere. Air burst through holes left by windows blown apart and paint swell in bubbles before peeling off the walls. A young maid-servant ran past them, her eyes wide with fear, her mind not directing her at any particular exit at all, her instincts driving her to run, to get away from the fire.

His duty was to protect the royal family, his orders – to take the King's grandchildren to safety. But it could not happen, not with the Princess and Lord Steffon being as they were. The young lord had taken a bad collision with a falling beam and was now fighting a swimming in his head that made every step of his twice as slow as it would have normally been. Princess Rhaella was worse off, clinging to Prince Aerys' hand, eyes black with horror, better concealed than the serving girl's but just as strong. Her belly prevented her from running as fast as she needed to. She was taking immense pains but she was slowing them down nonetheless because she was always tripping, falling, barely rising to her feet – each time, Ser Ilan expected it would be now that the two boys would not manage to haul her up – and always, always stepping on her skirts.

They entered the late Queen's chambers. Rhaella was screaming something but the hissing and spitting of fire would not let Ser Ilan hear it. He only made out the word 'passage' and decided that the secret passage must be somewhere here. Or maybe he just wanted to.

Now, the Princess was leading the way. There were tears pouring down on her face… and then, suddenly, Aerys yanked her back and they fell backwards. A big wardrobe had toppled over, right in front of them. Had they stayed where they were, they would have been buried beneath it.

"Rise, rise!" Aerys shouted, hauling himself up and trying to drag her to her feet. But she was holding her belly and moaning. Ser Ilan hurried to help. That was when he saw the panic, now unconstrained, in her eyes.

"What are we going to do now?" she shrieked. "The way is barred!"

Aerys and Ser Ilan turned to the fallen fixture. The fire was raging behind it, licked it, bathed the oak in fierce red. They could not reach the secret passage. But they could not stay here either!

With the two men's help, Rhaella scrambled to her feet and they headed back the way they had come. The smoke was so thick that they only saw the outlines of each other.

"Aerys!" someone suddenly yelled next to his ear. "Rhaella, Steffon! Are you well?"

"Yes," Aerys choked, trying to shake off the sudden new shock. Then, with his free hand, he gripped the hand of the man who had spoken. "Where is Father, Uncle? Why isn't he here! Where are the others?"

"Keep going," Duncan Targaryen said sharply. There was no way he was telling them that Jaehaerys was trapped in the burning main hall, along with the King and probably Rhaelle, as well. He had seen her round there in the beginning of the ritual… Still, it was possible that she had left before things got out of hand. _Please, let her have left in time!_ "Come on, this way!"

Behind him, Ser Barristan Selmy, the new hero of the Seven Kingdoms, looked around in awe and horrified fascination. Duncan motioned for all of them to follow.

"Where are we going?" Steffon asked.

"Come on, I am telling you! I'll take you. Ser Barristan, help the Princess."

Duncan ducked under Steffon's arm and dragged him at the start of their ragged line. Ser Barristan rattled an apology and caught Rhaella at her other side, looking as if he feared his boldness to touch her as much as he did the fire. The bumping against his side almost made him jump – the unborn baby was reacting to their distress with a distress of its own. Rhaella moaned and twisted against her will but she did not stop, not for a moment.

And they kept going.

* * *

An enormous egg rolled across the hall and bumped against the wall without as much as a scratch. It was beautiful – bright yellow with crimson, violet, and ivory streakes. Aegon kicked it out of his way and kept running to where Jaehaerys was lying in a pool of blood and ash.

"The entire castle is burning down!" the Lord Commander's voice bellowed.

Aegon registered what he was hearing and did not care one bit, his head filled with only one vision – Rhaelle, her mouth agape, her hands gasping for ones that were no longer there, falling, falling… Then, the image flickered, replaced by the real view of Jaehaerys sprawled on the floor unconscious, his hair a halo of silver streaked with rubies. He was lying near the very same spot where his sister had plummeted to her death.

"Come!" Ser Duncan yelled. "We must get you out!"

There was only a small upturned table between Jaehaerys and him. Aegon skirted it and then he was there.

Even unconscious, Jaehaerys groaned with pain. His left arm was being consumed by the flames that were running quickly upwards, to his shoulder. His fingers were stubs of black and ash already, his forearm a crumpled raw mess.

Aegon looked around, frantic. No water. Nothing even remotely useful. Nothing to stiffle the fire with, not even a cushion.

Nothing… but one thing.

With a swift motion, he took his sword off. His palm immediately stuck to the hot hilt. He grunted but did not drop it.

"What are you _doing_?" Ser Duncan bellowed somewhere from his left.

And Aegon struck.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you, Oberon Sexton and Bess Woodville, for reviewing.**

_Dragons Die_

Chapter 3

"The fire can't be stopped!" someone wheezed out. The smoke was choking all of them so severely that Rhaella couldn't say whether it was Aerys, Ser Barristan, or Ser Ilan who were all near her – the voice was literally unrecognizable. "Summerhall is lost!"

But were they lost? She, Aerys, Steffon? The child who was fighting his way to this world? Rhaella had stopped pleading with her babe to keep still – it was coming and there was no way around it. Fire and blood, really! A dragon in their purest! She laughed hysterically and was grateful that in the crackling of the fire no one could hear her doing so.

Her uncle let go of Steffon for a moment. Ser Ilan took his place while Duncan ran for the window to assess the situation. The smoke had made his face as black as his hair. Somewhere along their way, he had bloodied himself in a few places. His finery was now thorn in a few places.

Still, when he looked at them, his expression was wary but controlled. "We can still manage our way here," he said. "The fire is bigger in the upper storeys."

"Yes, Uncle," Aerys called out in response.

"Follow me and don't break the line. If someone falls behind, we might not even notice and they won't be able to catch up."

Aerys caught Rhaella more tightly and the babe kicked again. "Yes, Uncle," he called out again.

Duncan took his place at Steffon's side again. "Come on."

Over them, ceilings were burning, candelabra fell with horrendous crashes, spreading molten iron and gold that licked Ser Barristan's feet. He cursed and instinctively leapt apart. Left without support on one side, Rhaella's clumsy huge body keeled toward the floor. Aerys barely managed to keep her up; in the next moment, the young knight was at his place again, as fierce and devoted as ever.

The flames roared nearer and nearer. Duncan and Steffon disappeared into the smoke shot with red streaks of fire. She looked up and screamed; Aerys and Ser Barristan followed her look and leapt forward, with her hanging helplessly on their arms. They barely made it out of the room before the ceiling fell crumbling down. Behind them, a shower of scraps of stone and marble erupted, a storm of sand made them blind. Rhaella moaned and closed her eyes.

"How are you?" her uncle bellowed.

"We're fine," Aerys choked out. "Faster," he snapped.

Walls were falling, burning beams stuck out everywhere. Rhaella stumbled over the body of a handmaiden, horrendously squashed in the mass panic to get out. It was the first time she realized that for a while, she hadn't seen any servants here. Were all of them dead?

The fire was falling upon them like a terrifying fire bird spreading its deadly wings. Just a minute, and no one would be able to breathe any more. Just a minute, and the fire would spread on the lower floor, too.

"Here!" Duncan bellowed.

He entered a room, dragging Steffon who was almost completely dazed. The others followed as fast as they could.

Ser Barristan slammed the door shut. They were now in a smaller, more remote chamber. The fire was still hot on their heels but they had a few moment before… before what?

"Rhaella," Duncan ordered, "give Steffon some water. You three, help me."

Rhaella staggered for the table, fumbled with the goblet. Steffon shook his head not to bother and give him the decanter instead. He swallowed a few sips, moistened his face and seemed to feel better. He gave the decanter to Rhaella. The water was stagnant, smelly. Rhaella thought she might throw up. But it eased the burning in her throat nonetheless.

In the far end of the room, the men were pulling a plank from the wainscoting. With a click, it came out and a part of the wall slowly rotated on hidden hinge in front of Rhaella's wide eyes. A tunnel. A dark tunnel.

Her uncle looked at them. "Come on, hurry up! It leads to the Watch Hill, all the way to its top. I hope there aren't any fallen walls or anything but even so, that's your best chance. Run and don't look back."

He looked at the two knights. "I entrust their lives to you. Keep them safe."

The two men nodded. "Wait!" Steffon finally found his voice. "Aren't you coming with us?"

Duncan shook his head. "I'm staying. There's no time for arguments," he added in a voice that brooked none. "I have to find your parents. And the King. Hurry up already!"

On the entrance of the secret tunnel, Rhaella turned back. Her uncle stood, looking at them, savoring their faces. The thought that they might never see each other again was too much to bear.

As if by cue, the baby moved again. It was descending and the pain was excruciating. Rhaella bit her lip and entered the tunnel, dragging Steffon along. The two knights followed.

Like Rhaella had done, Aerys turned back. Duncan made a move to propel him off, but then suddenly stopped. His entire face changed in a mask of agony, regret, horror of the grievous mistake they had made this day. He reached out, drew Aerys closer. For first time in months, Aerys did not avoid the contact. "Forgive us for everything," Duncan said and this time, it was not only the smoke that choked his voice. "We were making plans for the greater good, yet at the end it's the Seven who decide. Now, the entire future of the Targaryen line lies in you."

"And in her, as well!" Aerys was staring at the place Rhaella had stood only moments ago, with the onetime affection he had lost for her since their forced wedding.

"Now, go!" Duncan urged and pushed him inside the tunnel, slammed the plank back, looked at the ceiling. The fire roared. He knew that by now, the flames would have blocked his way out, so he did the only thing he could: he lunged for the window and fumbled with the lock, throwing the pane open moment before the fire knocked the door out. The first floor was still quite above the ground level but he jumped anyway, curled in the air, landed on his feet in the turmoil of the courtyard where servants and animals ran panicked. He looked up and held his breath at the eerie beauty of the place he had loved to retreat to wrapped in flames.

He ran for the main wing, praying that he wasn't late, that he'd be able to do something, anything. How was he to reach the great hall? The fire had cut all roads before him. He reached the place right under it and looked helplessly up, then down… straight at his sister's body. He screamed, dropped to his knees, pulled her upright, shook her… Her eyes were staring at him unblinkingly. Her head lolled and fell on her breast.

"Rhaelle! Rhaelle!"

She was dead, he knew that, yet he couldn't stop calling out her name and shaking her, heedless f the crazed horses galloping and whinnying around him, hoping that maybe, just maybe…

"My Prince!"

He didn't recognize the face in front of him. A servant. But he looked, dazed, at the direction the man was pointing, and froze at the sight of two more bodies. _No, not them too!_

Ser Duncan the Tall, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was as impressive in death as he had ever been in life. His eyes were closed, his face untouched by the fire. _The smoke must have killed him_, Duncan realized, and if this stalwart man had succumbed to the smoke, what chance did Duncan's sickly brother have? Jaehaerys had been having troubles with his lungs since he was born. Now, he was sprawled in Duncan's feet, eyes closed, mouth twisted. His left arm was no more, cut off by a blade, the wound then cautherized to stop him from bleeding to death. Duncan knelt to him, placed his ear near his chest and almost drew back. Jaehaerys was still alive! How?

He jumped up and leaned over to take his brother in his arms. He didn't know what he could do, just that he had to do something.

Someone bumped into him, he started and swirled over, to the mad cascade of hooves and heavy bodies that he had forgotten. In the chaos, a black horse reared up. A mule pushed into its rump. The horse swung its legs. Duncan saw what was coming but didn't move. He knew that should he make a step aside, Jaehaerys would be lost. He rose fully and stood between his brother and the crazed animal, sheltering Jaehaerys with his body, even when the hooves came down with the entire weight of the frantic animal. His head cracked open and he fell atop his brother. Duncan, Aegon V's oldest son, had withstood fear and pain.

Around him, the entire upper floor collapsed.


End file.
